quête:kill ref don t stop!

Music To Varnish Owls By. Does Geoff Bastow have a claim for the best album title of all time? It's certainly up there. It's also one of the hardest to find library funk records. But don't let the eye-catching name fool you into thinking this isn't serious business.

As a key member of Giorgio Moroder's team, the legendary Geoff Bastow shouldn't need any introduction. You'll be familiar with his singular brilliance as the brains behind the much-sampled boogie/disco classics "You Don't Like My Music (Hupendi Muziki Wangu?!)" and "Don't Stop", released by his group, K.I.D.

But 1975's Music To Varnish Owls By is where it all began for our hero.

It's packed with incredibly soulful, soothing music that - despite being utilised a few times by Knxwledge - remains still largely un-mined. So, beat-makers, get cracking. And instead of that hyper-rare original, spend that £300 on something else.

Born in 1949, Bastow was a Munich-based English songwriter and record producer. Originally working as a guitarist and pianist in dance bands around his home county of Yorkshire, he moved to London in the early 1970s and then Munich in around 1976. He was one of the main architects of the Munich disco sound of electronic innovator Giorgio Moroder and also released heaps of killer library records for legendary labels like Bruton (with brother Trevor), Impress, JW Music Library and the Munich-based Sonoton between the 1970s-2000s. Bastow died tragically young, in Berlin, Germany on 16 March 2007, at the age of just 57. But he left behind a truly incredible electronic music legacy. He deserves to be much better known and this reissue should bring him to a fair few more ears. Let's see why...

Light-hearted opener "The Rough With The Smooth" contains a killer open drum break and is basically guitar-drenched flute-laced piano-funk. However, the first genuine highlight, "Beautiful People", is just majestic. Reflective, pastoral and silky smooth - as the title suggests, it's just straight beautiful; a chiming, deeply soulful instrumental that has to be heard to be believed. Sampled by Knxwledge but nobody else of note, which is crazy. Slo-mo soul beat "Tumbleweed" is another stone cold track just desperate to be laced by a skilled MC. Laconic, lysergic funk with nostalgic overtones, the guitar is prominent but the flute and glock really elevate it to perfection.

"Bits And Bats" is clav-enhanced Blaxploitation-esque street-funk with tough bass and crunchy drums that, despite its hardness, manages to flirt with breeziness. All in all, sumptuous, pounding wah-wah brilliance. Another huge one, up next. The insistent piano-funk head-nodder "A Change Of Pace" is a total sleuth-funk jammer, with a wonderfully soft snare and more hypnotic, melancholic flute lines. Man, we'd love to hear Alchemist chop this up. It even sounds a bit like Bastow was keeping things thoro with this one. Closing out Side A, the bright and breezy Bossa of "Janelle" makes it a perfect run of six untouchable gems. As elegant as it is sleazy, it sounds like it could've been on the classic KPM greensleeve, Piano Viberations.

Side B opens with the Ramsey Lewis-inspired "Time And A Half", a deceptively simple bass, drums and piano workout, decorated with stylish percussion with some great chord changes and hints of drama via a great bass solo. The heavy "Supersplash" is a doped-out drama suite with fuzzy wah-wah guitars, electric piano and glock. "Fillet Of Soul" is a catchy wah-wah propelled shuffle with piano and vibes, super dynamic but also incredibly chill.

"Well Above Average" is exactly that, a funky instrumental that serves as a straight ahead guitar-soul workout. Oozing bass-driven class, it gets better with every listen. Some open drums for your delectation, too. The fuzzy clav-and-vibes funk of "The Clan" - also understandably sampled by Knxwledge - is a monster head-nod slow jam whilst, seeing us out, the uber-relaxed "Sing Song" rounds things off in bright fashion with its slow but insistent clav, electric piano and glock greatness. Swoon.

As ever, the audio for Music To Varnish Owls By has been carefully remastered by Be With regular Simon Francis, ensuring it sounds better than ever. Cicely Balston's expert skills have made sure nothing is lost in the cut whilst the records have been pressed to the highest possible standard at Record Industry in Holland. The original, iconic sleeve has been restored here at Be With HQ as the finishing touch to this long overdue re-issue.

"Waxwork Records is honored to present the release of the Original Motion Picture Soundtrack to George A. Romero’s horror classic, NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD. Written, filmed, and released in 1968 by a rag tag group of Pittsburgh based misfits, NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD is an American independent horror film that follows the story of seven people trapped in a rural farmhouse that is besieged by a large and growing group of living dead ghouls. The film is regarded as a cult classic by critics, film scholars, and fans and has garnered critical acclaim. The film has been selected by the Library Of Congress for preservation in the National Film Registry and is deemed “culturally, historically, and aesthetically significant”.

Filmed and released on a shoestring budget, NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD became a smashing success earning over 250 times its budget. The film is a first of its kind and ushered in a new way of writing, directing, and filming horror films. The overused script of romantic, fantastical tales of otherworldly monsters and creatures was completely flipped and tossed aside by visionary George A. Romero. As the film’s writer and director, Romero created a new, obvious threat, and one that is universally recognizable - Our very own neighbors. Due to an unseen force beyond man’s control, the recently deceased arise from the dead in seek of living human victims. These ghouls kill and feast upon the flesh of their victims, and the only way of stopping them is by destroying their brains.

From 2015 to 2018, Waxwork Records worked closely with the remaining members of the independent production company that made NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD, Image Ten, to produce a definitive soundtrack album featuring all music from the film. Much of the film’s music was thought to be lost or destroyed but was located in its entirety and faithfully restored and re-mastered for vinyl. This special release of NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD features the complete soundtrack, double LP “Black & White Hand Poured” colored vinyl, all new artwork by Robert Sammelin, a booklet featuring never before seen production photos, liner notes by Daniel Kraus (co-author of THE SHAPE OF WATER with Guillermo Del Toro), liner notes by Night Of The Living Dead’s dialogue recorder and sound engineer, Gary Streiner, and deluxe packaging."

"Waxwork Records is honored to present the release of the Original Motion Picture Soundtrack to George A. Romero’s horror classic, NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD. Written, filmed, and released in 1968 by a rag tag group of Pittsburgh based misfits, NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD is an American independent horror film that follows the story of seven people trapped in a rural farmhouse that is besieged by a large and growing group of living dead ghouls. The film is regarded as a cult classic by critics, film scholars, and fans and has garnered critical acclaim. The film has been selected by the Library Of Congress for preservation in the National Film Registry and is deemed “culturally, historically, and aesthetically significant”.

Filmed and released on a shoestring budget, NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD became a smashing success earning over 250 times its budget. The film is a first of its kind and ushered in a new way of writing, directing, and filming horror films. The overused script of romantic, fantastical tales of otherworldly monsters and creatures was completely flipped and tossed aside by visionary George A. Romero. As the film’s writer and director, Romero created a new, obvious threat, and one that is universally recognizable - Our very own neighbors. Due to an unseen force beyond man’s control, the recently deceased arise from the dead in seek of living human victims. These ghouls kill and feast upon the flesh of their victims, and the only way of stopping them is by destroying their brains.

From 2015 to 2018, Waxwork Records worked closely with the remaining members of the independent production company that made NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD, Image Ten, to produce a definitive soundtrack album featuring all music from the film. Much of the film’s music was thought to be lost or destroyed but was located in its entirety and faithfully restored and re-mastered for vinyl. This special release of NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD features the complete soundtrack, double LP “Black & White Hand Poured” colored vinyl, all new artwork by Robert Sammelin, a booklet featuring never before seen production photos, liner notes by Daniel Kraus (co-author of THE SHAPE OF WATER with Guillermo Del Toro), liner notes by Night Of The Living Dead’s dialogue recorder and sound engineer, Gary Streiner, and deluxe packaging."

The female-led discodelic soul band Say She She, named as a silent nod to NileRodgers (C'est chi-chi!: It's Chic!"), release their sophomore album `Silver' on theheels of an epic break-out year that grows brighter by the day. The three strong voices of Piya Malik (El Michels Affair staple feature, and formerbacking singer for Chicano Batman), Sabrina Mileo Cunningham and Nya GazelleBrown front the band. This harmonizing trio was formed in a classic New York taleof friends that met by following the music: the downtown dancefloors, through theLower East Side floorboards and up to the rooftops of Harlem. `Silver' was entirely written and recorded live to tape at Killion Sound studio inNorth Hollywood earlier this year and produced by Sergio Rios (of Orgone). Whilethese analog recording techniques help root Say She She's sound in a bedrock oftonal warmth that only tape can achieve, it is also their process of cutting the trackin the moment and capturing the magic of communal creativity that has seen theirsound described as "a glorious overload of joyful elation and spiritualelevation" (MOJO) and "infused with the wonky post-disco spirit of early'80s NYC" (The Guardian). Silver, the element, is known as the metal of self-confidence and the mirror of thesoul. With that, the 16-song double-LP projects not only their growth in writingwith confidence, but also reflects a deeper exploration into their punk-chic, femme-forward sensibility. Ultimately, `Silver' oozes with quirk and adventure and embraces themultifaceted nature of what it means to be a modern femme. The She She'sfully embrace their role as beauticians, actively reminding people of the inherentbeauty in the world. They skillfully employ double entendres and humor toencourage open dialogue and fearlessly address important matters that demandattention.

Vecchio's Afro-Rock is one big horn-heavy, bass-blasting, Latin groove funk-rock party. Only now, you're all invited because this, ladies and gentleman, is officially...a grail no more. With copies currently starting at 400 Euros for an original, this beautifully presented reissue, part of Be With's fresh campaign with Music De Wolfe, is well overdue. A magnificent and somewhat obscure library set that's just a total, cohesive joy from start to finish, this here is the soundtrack to all your smokin' summer BBQs and communal cookouts.

Afro-Rock is the debut album by Argentine keyboardist Luis Vecchio. Recorded for the sound library label De Wolfe, the album is frequently mentioned in hushed reverence among the beat digger DJ collecting crowd. It features fiery brass charts, funky bass lines, fluttering flute, choppy organ and additional hand tribal percussion. The band let loose too and jam hard; yet there's a certain thread of solidity that runs throughout, the tracks just belong together, not disparate sound and rhythm experiments like some library records; this is just straight up, no messin', consistent funk-rock FIRE! Hips will sway, heads will nod to the steady vibes. It's insanely good.

The humid, building funk of the appropriately titled "Megaton" is a dramatic explosion of swirling, dazzling organ lines, ferocious beats and heavy horns throughout. It just don't stop. The tempo slows slightly for the deep and deeply addictive "Renegade". It's all heavy jazz horn refrains, always triumphant, coupled with devastating percussive breakdowns and killer guitar riffing. It's an insistent organ-led juggernaut. The frenetic "Facade", up next, is no less driving, horns high up in the mix over rattling percussion and brilliant organs lines. Just sensational. The bright "Chabati" is another glorious extension of the optimistic Vecchio sound, the organs wilder than ever before. The moody "Green Hell" is a real highlight and closes out the A-Side with some outrageously funky refrains - be it horns, organ or guitars - and is complimented by gorgeous flute work that galvanises the piece, elevating it to downright heavenly status.

Knowing full well that he's on to a surefire thing, Vecchio opens the flipside in much the same vein. Indeed, "Boss" is yet another uptempo highlight, a sensual orgy of proud horns, hand percussion and melodic flute playing over driving organ and guitars. It's followed by "Nsambei", which is rightly adored for its briefly open drum break, fantastically propulsive percussion breakdowns throughout and the jazzy, loose organ and guitar shreds. The bright "Waboco" ups the tempo and the pressure, hanging on one hell of a guitar hook and infectious horn refrain. Perhaps foreseeing how this album would come to be viewed, the aptly-titled "Cult" is possibly the finest song on the record. Which is saying something, because this record is insanely good. Riding a steady, confident organ groove straight out the gate, the kinda melancholic flute line over the top serves as a beautiful counterpoint which the horns often come in and imitate/riff off. Goddamn this is so so good, it needs to be played everywhere. The overwhelmingly mighty 7-minute jam "Ngoma-ku" rounds out this quite staggering record brilliantly in its heavy, mid-tempo blues with countless extended solos.

The audio for Afro Rock has been meticulously remastered by Be With regular Simon Francis, ensuring this release sounds better than ever. Cicely Balston's expert skills have made sure nothing is lost in the cut whilst the records have been pressed to the highest possible standard at Record Industry in Holland. The original, iconic sleeve has been restored here at Be With HQ as the finishing touch to this long overdue re-issue.

The female-led discodelic soul band Say She She, named as a silent nod to Nile Rodgers (C’est chi-chi!: It's Chic!”), release their sophomore album ‘Silver’ on the heels of an epic break-out year that grows brighter by the day.

The three strong voices of Piya Malik (El Michels Affair staple feature, and former backing singer for Chicano Batman), Sabrina Mileo Cunningham and Nya Gazelle Brown front the band. This harmonizing trio was formed in a classic New York tale of friends that met by following the music: the downtown dancefloors, through the

Lower East Side floorboards and up to the rooftops of Harlem.

‘Silver’ was entirely written and recorded live to tape at Killion Sound studio in North Hollywood earlier this year and produced by Sergio Rios (of Orgone). While these analog recording techniques help root Say She She’s sound in a bedrock of tonal warmth that only tape can achieve, it is also their process of cutting the track

in the moment and capturing the magic of communal creativity that has seen their sound described as “a glorious overload of joyful elation and spiritual elevation” (MOJO) and “infused with the wonky post-disco spirit of early '80s NYC” (The Guardian).

Silver, the element, is known as the metal of self-confidence and the mirror of the soul. With that, the 16-song double-LP projects not only their growth in writing with confidence, but also reflects a deeper exploration into their punk-chic, femmeforward sensibility.

Ultimately, ‘Silver’ oozes with quirk and adventure and embraces the multifaceted nature of what it means to be a modern femme. The She She's fully embrace their role as beauticians, actively reminding people of the inherent beauty in the world. They skillfully employ double entendres and humor to encourage open dialogue and fearlessly address important matters that demand attention.

The female-led discodelic soul band Say She She, named as a silent nod to Nile Rodgers (C’est chi-chi!: It's Chic!”), release their sophomore album ‘Silver’ on the heels of an epic break-out year that grows brighter by the day.

The three strong voices of Piya Malik (El Michels Affair staple feature, and former backing singer for Chicano Batman), Sabrina Mileo Cunningham and Nya Gazelle Brown front the band. This harmonizing trio was formed in a classic New York tale of friends that met by following the music: the downtown dancefloors, through the

Lower East Side floorboards and up to the rooftops of Harlem.

‘Silver’ was entirely written and recorded live to tape at Killion Sound studio in North Hollywood earlier this year and produced by Sergio Rios (of Orgone). While these analog recording techniques help root Say She She’s sound in a bedrock of tonal warmth that only tape can achieve, it is also their process of cutting the track

in the moment and capturing the magic of communal creativity that has seen their sound described as “a glorious overload of joyful elation and spiritual elevation” (MOJO) and “infused with the wonky post-disco spirit of early '80s NYC” (The Guardian).

Silver, the element, is known as the metal of self-confidence and the mirror of the soul. With that, the 16-song double-LP projects not only their growth in writing with confidence, but also reflects a deeper exploration into their punk-chic, femmeforward sensibility.

Ultimately, ‘Silver’ oozes with quirk and adventure and embraces the multifaceted nature of what it means to be a modern femme. The She She's fully embrace their role as beauticians, actively reminding people of the inherent beauty in the world. They skillfully employ double entendres and humor to encourage open dialogue and fearlessly address important matters that demand attention.

Pinky Perzelle, aka Sonny Rooney's debut 'No Games' featuring Eda Eren, is a true labour of love and an ode to his total passion and dedication to multi instrumental record creation without compromise. Almost every instrument was recorded and played by Perzelle at his home studio. Featuring the utterly unique, impassioned and reassuring vocals of British-Turkish artist, Eda Eren, and additional drums from world renowned Malcolm Catto (The Heliocentrics). The lead track is a timeless, heartfelt, funk-ladened portal into a world reminiscent of a cinematic movie scene or an undiscovered gem from another era all-together. The hypnotic 'Remix' from Velvet Season & The Hearts Of Gold aka Gerry Rooney & Joel Martin, introduces subtle electronica and dubbed out instrumentation. A true lesson in after hours, left-field Balearica. Pinky's own 'Electronic Mix' references early house music and broken-beat electronic drums. Showing yet another side of Perzelle's approach to music making.

DJ Feedback

Gilles Peterson:
"Great stuff! Loving the Turkish twist on No Games. Whoooop!"

Dj Harvey:
"Definitely a jam I’ll play in Ibiza for my summer season!"

Francios K:
"I have the Original Mix and love it!"

Tim Sweeney (Beats in space):
"Great job with this. Definitely supporting! Added to BIS playlist."

Colleen Cosmo Murphy (WWFM):
"Now here’s a great new song. A debut song from Pinky Perzelle aka Sonny Rooney. Also a great remix from Velvet Season & The Hearts Of Gold!"

Charlie Bones (Do You):
"Dangerously sexy."

Apiento (Test Pressing):
"A killer song put together with an overall vision from someone that knows where they want to be. An artist to watch. Respect."

Nancy Noise:
"I haven’t stopped listening to it! I mean it! Well done!"

Laurent Garnier:
"Playlisting Original Mix on PBB Radio. Thanks a lot!"

Luke Howard (Horse Meat Disco):
"Bravo, great job. Keep up the good work. Always happy to hear real music with new melodies and ideas!"

Leo Mas:
"Pinky’s Electronic Mix’ is great! Great job, bravo!"

Ashley Beedle:
"I’ll be putting this in August’s show. Sounds wicked."

Jonny Rock:
"This is great! Intense emotion dancefloor bomb! Big up the Perzelle."

Mehmet Aslan:
"Nice ones, I like! Added to Spotify ‘Track ID’s’ playlist."

CC Disco:
"Sick release! Was not what I was expecting. Even better!"

Patrizio Cavaliere (Mixmag Asia):
"A sublime statement of intent."

As the sun sets on a quaint East Nashville house, a young man bares a piece of his soul. Facing the camera, sporting a silky suit jacket/shirt/slacks/fingerless gloves ensemble that announces "singer" before he's even opened his mouth, Lee Tracy Johnson settles onto his stage, the front yard. He sways to the dirge-like drum machine pulse of a synth-soaked slow jam, extends his arms as if gaining his balance, and croons in affecting, fragile earnest, "I need your love… oh baby…"

Dogs in the yard next door begin barking. A mysterious cardboard robot figure, beamed in from galaxies unknown and affixed to a tree, is less vocal. Lee doesn't acknowledge either's presence. He's busy feeling it, arms and hands gesticulating. His voice rises in falsetto over the now-quiet dogs, over the ambient noise from the street that seeps into the handheld camcorder's microphone, over the recording of his own voice played back from a boombox off-camera. After six minutes the single, continuous shot ends. In this intimate creative universe there are no re-takes. There are many more music videos to shoot, and as Lee later puts it, "The first time you do it is actually the best. Because you can never get that again. You expressing yourself from within."

"I Need Your Love" dates from a lost heyday. From some time in the '80s or early '90s, when Lee Tracy (as he was known in performance) and his music partner/producer/manager Isaac Manning committed hours upon hours of their sonic and visual ideas to tape. Embracing drum machines and synthesizers – electronics that made their personal futurism palpable – they recorded exclusively at home, live in a room into a simple cassette deck. Soul, funk, electro and new wave informed their songs, yet Lee and Isaac eschewed the confinement of conventional categories and genres, preferring to let experimentation guide them.

"Anytime somebody put out a new record they had the same instruments or the same sound," explains Isaac. "So I basically wanted to find something that's really gonna stand out away from all of the rest of 'em." Their ethos meant that every idea they came up with was at least worth trying: echoed out half-rapped exhortations over frantic techno-style beats, gospel synth soul, modal electro-funk, oddball pop reinterpretations, emo AOR balladry, nods to Prince and the Fat Boys, or arrangements that might collapse mid-song into a mess of arcade game-ish blips before rallying to reach the finish line. All of it conjoined by consistent tape hiss, and most vitally, Lee's chameleonic voice, which managed to wildly shape shift and still evoke something sincere – whether toggling between falsetto and tenor exalting Jesus's return, or punctuating a melismatic romantic adlib with a succinct, "We all know how it feels to be alone."

"People think we went to a studio," says Isaac derisively. "We never went to no studio. We didn't have the money to go to no studio! We did this stuff at home. I shot videos in my front yard with whatever we could to get things together." Sometimes Isaac would just put on an instrumental record, be it "Planet Rock" or "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" (from Evita), press "record," and let Lee improvise over it, yielding peculiar love songs, would-be patriotic anthems, or Elvis Presley or Marilyn Monroe tributes. Technical limitations and a lack of professional polish never dissuaded them. They believed they were onto something.

"That struggle," Isaac says, "made that sound sound good to me."

In the parlance of modern music criticism Lee and Isaac's dizzying DIY efforts would inevitably be described as "outsider." But "outsider" carries the burden of untold additional layers of meaning if you're Black and from the South, creating on a budget, and trying to get someone, anyone within the country music capital of the world to take your vision seriously. "What category should we put it in?" Isaac asks rhetorically. "I don't know. All I know is feeling. I ain't gonna name it nothing. It's music. If it grabs your soul and touch your heart that's what it basically is supposed to do."

=

Born in 1963, the baby boy of nine siblings, Lee Tracy spent his earliest years living amidst the shotgun houses on Nashville's south side. "We was poor, man!" he says, recalling the outhouse his family used for a bathroom and the blocks of ice they kept in the kitchen to chill perishables. "But I actually don't think I really realized I was in poverty until I got grown and started thinking about it." Lee's mom worked at the Holiday Inn; his dad did whatever he had to do, from selling fruit from a horse drawn cart to bootlegging. "We didn't have much," Lee continues, "but my mother and my father got us the things we needed, the clothes on our back." By the end of the decade with the city's urban renewal programs razing entire neighborhoods to accommodate construction of the Interstate, the family moved to Edgehill Projects. Lee remembers music and art as a constant source of inspiration for he and his brothers and sisters – especially after seeing the Jackson 5 perform on Ed Sullivan. "As a small child I just knew that was what I wanted to do."

His older brother Don began musically mentoring him, introducing Lee to a variety of instruments and sounds. "He would never play one particular type of music, like R&B," says Lee. "I was surrounded by jazz, hard rock and roll, easy listening, gospel, reggae, country music; I mean I was a sponge absorbing all of that." Lee taught himself to play drums by beating on cardboard boxes, gaining a rep around the way for his timekeeping, and his singing voice. Emulating his favorites, Earth Wind & Fire and Cameo, he formed groups with other kids with era-evocative band names like Concept and TNT Connection, and emerged as the leader of disciplined rehearsals. "I made them practice," says Lee. "We practiced and practiced and practiced. Because I wanted that perfection." By high school the most accomplished of these bands would take top prize in a prominent local talent show. It was a big moment for Lee, and he felt ready to take things to the next level. But his band-mates had other ideas.

"I don't know what happened," he says, still miffed at the memory. "It must have blew they mind after we won and people started showing notice, because it's like everybody quit! I was like, where the hell did everybody go?" Lee had always made a point of interrogating prospective musicians about their intentions before joining his groups: were they really serious or just looking for a way to pick up girls? Now he understood even more the importance of finding a collaborator just as committed to the music as he was.

=

Isaac Manning had spent much of his life immersed in music and the arts – singing in the church choir with his family on Nashville's north side, writing, painting, dancing, and working various gigs within the entertainment industry. After serving in the armed forces, in the early '70s he ran The Teenage Place, a music and performance venue that catered to the local youth. But he was forced out of town when word of one of his recreational routines created a stir beyond the safe haven of his bohemian circles.

"I was growing marijuana," Isaac explains. "It wasn't no business, I was smoking it myself… I would put marijuana in scrambled eggs, cornbread and stuff." His weed use originated as a form of self-medication to combat severe tooth pain. But when he began sharing it with some of the other young people he hung out with, some of who just so happened to be the kids of Nashville politicians, the cops came calling. "When I got busted," he remembers, "they were talking about how they were gonna get rid of me because they didn't want me saying nothing about they children because of the politics and stuff. So I got my family, took two raggedy cars, and left Nashville and went to Vegas."

Out in the desert, Isaac happened to meet Chubby Checker of "The Twist" fame while the singer was gigging at The Flamingo. Impressed by Isaac's zeal, Checker invited him to go on the road with him as his tour manager/roadie/valet. The experience gave Isaac a window into a part of the entertainment world he'd never encountered – a glimpse of what a true pop act's audience looked like. "Chubby Checker, none of his shows were played for Black folks," he remembers. "All his gigs were done at high-class white people areas." Returning home after a few years with Chubby, Isaac was properly motivated to make it in Music City. He began writing songs and scouting around Nashville for local talent anywhere he could find it with an expressed goal: "Find someone who can deliver your songs the way you want 'em delivered and make people feel what you want them to feel."

One day while walking through Edgehill Projects Isaac heard someone playing the drums in a way that made him stop and take notice. "The music was so tight, just the drums made me feel like, oh I'm-a find this person," he recalls. "So I circled through the projects until I found who it was.

"That's how I met him – Lee Tracy. When I found him and he started singing and stuff, I said, ohhh, this is somebody different."

=

Theirs was a true complementary partnership: young Lee possessed the raw talent, the older Isaac the belief. "He's really the only one besides my brother and my family that really seen the potential in me," says Lee. "He made me see that I could do it."

Isaac long being a night owl, his house also made for a fertile collaborative environment – a space where there always seemed to be a new piece of his visual art on display: paintings, illustrations, and dolls and figures (including an enigmatic cardboard robot). Lee and Issac would hang out together and talk, listen to music, conjure ideas, and smoke the herb Isaac had resumed growing in his yard. "It got to where I could trust him, he could trust me," Isaac says of their bond. They also worked together for hours on drawings, spreading larges rolls of paper on the walls and sketching faces with abstract patterns and imagery: alien-like beings, tri-horned horse heads, inverted Janus-like characters where one visage blurred into the other.

Soon it became apparent that they didn't need other collaborators; self-sufficiency was the natural way forward. At Isaac's behest Lee, already fed up with dealing with band musicians, began playing around with a poly-sonic Yamaha keyboard at the local music store. "It had everything on it – trumpet, bass, drums, organ," remembers Lee. "And that's when I started recording my own stuff."

The technology afforded Lee the flexibility and independence he craved, setting him on a path other bedroom musicians and producers around the world were simultaneously following through the '80s into the early '90s. Saving up money from day jobs, he eventually supplemented the Yamaha Isaac had gotten him with Roland and Casio drum machines and a Moog. Lee was living in an apartment in Hillside at that point caring for his dad, who'd been partially paralyzed since early in life. In the evenings up in his second floor room, the music put him in a zone where he could tune out everything and lose himself in his ideas.

"Oh I loved it," he recalls. "I would really experiment with the instruments and use a lot of different sound effects. I was looking for something nobody else had. I wanted something totally different. And once I found the sound I was looking for, I would just smoke me a good joint and just let it go, hit the record button." More potent a creative stimulant than even Isaac's weed was the holistic flow and spontaneity of recording. Between sessions at Isaac's place and Lee's apartment, their volume of output quickly ballooned.

"We was always recording," says Lee. "That's why we have so much music. Even when I went to Isaac's and we start creating, I get home, my mind is racing, I gotta start creating, creating, creating. I remember there were times when I took a 90-minute tape from front to back and just filled it up."

"We never practiced," says Isaac. "See, that was just so odd about the whole thing. I could relate to him, and tell him about the songs I had ideas for and everything and stuff. And then he would bring it back or whatever, and we'd get together and put it down." Once the taskmaster hell bent on rehearsing, Lee had flipped a full 180. Perfection was no longer an aspiration, but the enemy of inspiration.

"I seen where practicing and practicing got me," says Lee. "A lot of musicians you get to playing and they gotta stop, they have to analyze the music. But while you analyzing you losing a lot of the greatness of what you creating. Stop analyzing what you play, just play! And it'll all take shape."

=

"I hope you understood the beginning of the record because this was invented from a dream I had today… (You tell me, I'll tell you, we'll figure it out together)" – Lee Tracy and Isaac Manning, "Hope You Understand"

Lee lets loose a maniacal cackle when he acknowledges that the material that he and Isaac recorded was by anyone's estimation pretty out there. It's the same laugh that commences "Hope You Understand" – a chaotic transmission that encapsulates the duality at the heart of their music: a stated desire to reach people and a compulsion to go as leftfield as they saw fit.

"We just did it," says Lee. "We cut the music on and cut loose. I don't sit around and write. I do it by listening, get a feeling, play the music, and the lyrics and stuff just come out of me."

The approach proved adaptable to interpreting other artists' material. While recording a cover of Whitney Houston's pop ballad "Saving All My Love For You," Lee played Whitney's version in his headphones as he laid down his own vocals – partially following the lyrics, partially using them as a departure point. The end result is barely recognizable compared with the original, Lee and Isaac having switched up the time signature and reinvented the melody along the way towards morphing a slick mainstream radio standard into something that sounds solely their own.

"I really used that song to get me started," says Lee. "Then I said, well I need something else, something is missing. Something just came over me. That's when I came up with 'Is It What You Want.'"

The song would become the centerpiece of Lee and Isaac's repertoire. Pushed along by a percolating metronomic Rhythm King style beat somewhere between a military march and a samba, "Is It What You Want" finds Lee pleading the sincerity of his commitment to a potential love interest embellished by vocal tics and hiccups subtlely reminiscent of his childhood hero MJ. Absent chord changes, only synth riffs gliding in and out like apparitions, the song achieves a lingering lo-fi power that leaves you feeling like it's still playing, somewhere, even after the fade out.

"I don't know, it's like a real spiritual song," Lee reflects. "But it's not just spiritual. To me the more I listen to it it's like about everything that you do in your everyday life, period. Is it what you want? Do you want a car or you don't want a car? Do you want Jesus or do you want the Devil? It's basically asking you the question. Can't nobody answer the question but you yourself."

In 1989 Lee won a lawsuit stemming from injuries sustained from a fight he'd gotten into. He took part of the settlement money and with Isaac pressed up "Saving All My Love For You" b/w "Is It What You Want" as a 45 single. Isaac christened the label One Chance Records. "Because that's all we wanted," he says with a laugh, "one chance."

Isaac sent the record out to radio stations and major labels, hoping for it to make enough noise to get picked up nationally. But the response he and Lee were hoping for never materialized. According to Isaac the closest the single got to getting played on the radio is when a disk jock from a local station made a highly unusual announcement on air: "The dude said on the radio, 107.5 – 'We are not gonna play 'Is It What You Want.' We cracked up! Wow, that's deep.

"It was a whole racist thing that was going on," he reflects. "So we just looked over and kept on going. That was it. That was about the way it goes… If you were Black and you were living in Nashville and stuff, that's the way you got treated." Isaac already knew as much from all the times he'd brought he and Lee's tapes (even their cache of country music tunes) over to Music Row to try to drum up interest to no avail.

"Isaac, he really worked his ass off," says Lee. "He probably been to every record place down on Music Row." Nashville's famed recording and music business corridor wasn't but a few blocks from where Lee grew up. Close enough, he remembers, for him to ride his bike along its back alleys and stumble upon the occasional random treasure, like a discarded box of harmonicas. Getting in through the front door, however, still felt a world away.

"I just don't think at the time our music fell into a category for them," he concedes. "It was before its time."

=

Lee stopped making music some time in the latter part of the '90s, around the time his mom passed away and life became increasingly tough to manage. "When my mother died I had a nervous breakdown," he says, "So I shut down for a long time. I was in such a sadness frame of mind. That's why nobody seen me. I had just disappeared off the map." He fell out of touch with Isaac, and in an indication of just how bad things had gotten for him, lost track of all the recordings they'd made together. Music became a distant memory.

Fortunately, Isaac kept the faith. In a self-published collection of his poetry – paeans to some of his favorite entertainment and public figures entitled Friends and Dick Clark – he'd written that he believed "music has a life of its own." But his prescience and presence of mind were truly manifested in the fact that he kept an archive of he and Lee's work. As perfectly imperfect as "Is It What You Want" now sounds in a post-Personal Space world, Lee and Isaac's lone official release was in fact just a taste. The bulk of the Is It What You Want album is culled from the pair's essentially unheard home recordings – complete songs, half-realized experiments, Isaac's blue monologues and pronouncements et al – compiled, mixed and programmed in the loose and impulsive creative spirit of their regular get-togethers from decades ago. The rest of us, it seems, may have finally caught up to them.

On the prospect of at long last reaching a wider audience, Isaac says simply, "I been trying for a long time, it feels good." Ever the survivor, he adds, "The only way I know how to make it to the top is to keep climbing. If one leg break on the ladder, hey, you gotta fix it and keep on going… That's where I be at. I'll kill death to make it out there."

For Lee it all feels akin to a personal resurrection: "It's like I was in a tomb and the tomb was opened and I'm back… Man, it feels so great. I feel like I'm gonna jump out of my skin." Success at this stage of his life, he realizes, probably means something different than what it did back when he was singing and dancing in Isaac's front yard. "What I really mean by 'making it,'" he explains isn't just the music being heard but, "the story being told."

Occasionally Lee will pull up "Is It What You Want" on YouTube on his phone, put on his headphones, and listen. He remembers the first time he heard his recorded voice. How surreal it was, how he thought to himself, "Is that really me?" What would he say to that younger version of himself now?

"I would probably tell myself, hang in there, don't give up. Keep striving for the goal. And everything will work out."

Despite what's printed on the record label, sometimes you do get more than one chance.

With more than 30 years in the game, D.I.T.C. affiliate Andre the Giant of Showbiz & A.G. fame continues to prove that his pen game is better than ever with the release of his latest full length effort, Giant In The Mental.

The album title is more than just a reference to one of his earliest tracks; it’s a statement that he remains head and shoulders above the competition like the rap giant that he is. And he’s proudly doing it all on his own with this record, without any guest appearances.

“I am really not moved by guest appearances,” A.G. explains. “Music for me is mostly therapy, and I don’t need anyone else to help me vent and express my thoughts.” He’s absolutely right, because across the 10 tracks on Giant In The Mental, he skillfully unpacks and tackles a number of different topics with his trademark wit and wisdom.

The Bronx rap legend straight-up kills it on every level, too, from clever wordplay to engaging storytelling raps. If you want his bully bars, just listen to the hard-hitting opening track, “Andre The Giant,” with speaker-thumping production from DJ Manipulator. And for storytelling, you can dig into the beautifully written and smooth “Summer School” or the cinematic and stirring “The Sphinx.”

It all amounts to a truly impressive and cohesive piece of work from A.G., who is eager to continue creating art until he can’t meet his own standards. “If I can’t perform at a high level then it’s time to stop!” he says before adding that pushing himself creatively is what this is all about for him. His integrity and passion for the artform is palpable, and it’s those qualities that have helped him remain such a necessary voice—and force— in music.

As the sun sets on a quaint East Nashville house, a young man bares a piece of his soul. Facing the camera, sporting a silky suit jacket/shirt/slacks/fingerless gloves ensemble that announces "singer" before he's even opened his mouth, Lee Tracy Johnson settles onto his stage, the front yard. He sways to the dirge-like drum machine pulse of a synth-soaked slow jam, extends his arms as if gaining his balance, and croons in affecting, fragile earnest, "I need your love… oh baby…"

Dogs in the yard next door begin barking. A mysterious cardboard robot figure, beamed in from galaxies unknown and affixed to a tree, is less vocal. Lee doesn't acknowledge either's presence. He's busy feeling it, arms and hands gesticulating. His voice rises in falsetto over the now-quiet dogs, over the ambient noise from the street that seeps into the handheld camcorder's microphone, over the recording of his own voice played back from a boombox off-camera. After six minutes the single, continuous shot ends. In this intimate creative universe there are no re-takes. There are many more music videos to shoot, and as Lee later puts it, "The first time you do it is actually the best. Because you can never get that again. You expressing yourself from within."

"I Need Your Love" dates from a lost heyday. From some time in the '80s or early '90s, when Lee Tracy (as he was known in performance) and his music partner/producer/manager Isaac Manning committed hours upon hours of their sonic and visual ideas to tape. Embracing drum machines and synthesizers – electronics that made their personal futurism palpable – they recorded exclusively at home, live in a room into a simple cassette deck. Soul, funk, electro and new wave informed their songs, yet Lee and Isaac eschewed the confinement of conventional categories and genres, preferring to let experimentation guide them.

"Anytime somebody put out a new record they had the same instruments or the same sound," explains Isaac. "So I basically wanted to find something that's really gonna stand out away from all of the rest of 'em." Their ethos meant that every idea they came up with was at least worth trying: echoed out half-rapped exhortations over frantic techno-style beats, gospel synth soul, modal electro-funk, oddball pop reinterpretations, emo AOR balladry, nods to Prince and the Fat Boys, or arrangements that might collapse mid-song into a mess of arcade game-ish blips before rallying to reach the finish line. All of it conjoined by consistent tape hiss, and most vitally, Lee's chameleonic voice, which managed to wildly shape shift and still evoke something sincere – whether toggling between falsetto and tenor exalting Jesus's return, or punctuating a melismatic romantic adlib with a succinct, "We all know how it feels to be alone."

"People think we went to a studio," says Isaac derisively. "We never went to no studio. We didn't have the money to go to no studio! We did this stuff at home. I shot videos in my front yard with whatever we could to get things together." Sometimes Isaac would just put on an instrumental record, be it "Planet Rock" or "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" (from Evita), press "record," and let Lee improvise over it, yielding peculiar love songs, would-be patriotic anthems, or Elvis Presley or Marilyn Monroe tributes. Technical limitations and a lack of professional polish never dissuaded them. They believed they were onto something.

"That struggle," Isaac says, "made that sound sound good to me."

In the parlance of modern music criticism Lee and Isaac's dizzying DIY efforts would inevitably be described as "outsider." But "outsider" carries the burden of untold additional layers of meaning if you're Black and from the South, creating on a budget, and trying to get someone, anyone within the country music capital of the world to take your vision seriously. "What category should we put it in?" Isaac asks rhetorically. "I don't know. All I know is feeling. I ain't gonna name it nothing. It's music. If it grabs your soul and touch your heart that's what it basically is supposed to do."

=

Born in 1963, the baby boy of nine siblings, Lee Tracy spent his earliest years living amidst the shotgun houses on Nashville's south side. "We was poor, man!" he says, recalling the outhouse his family used for a bathroom and the blocks of ice they kept in the kitchen to chill perishables. "But I actually don't think I really realized I was in poverty until I got grown and started thinking about it." Lee's mom worked at the Holiday Inn; his dad did whatever he had to do, from selling fruit from a horse drawn cart to bootlegging. "We didn't have much," Lee continues, "but my mother and my father got us the things we needed, the clothes on our back." By the end of the decade with the city's urban renewal programs razing entire neighborhoods to accommodate construction of the Interstate, the family moved to Edgehill Projects. Lee remembers music and art as a constant source of inspiration for he and his brothers and sisters – especially after seeing the Jackson 5 perform on Ed Sullivan. "As a small child I just knew that was what I wanted to do."

His older brother Don began musically mentoring him, introducing Lee to a variety of instruments and sounds. "He would never play one particular type of music, like R&B," says Lee. "I was surrounded by jazz, hard rock and roll, easy listening, gospel, reggae, country music; I mean I was a sponge absorbing all of that." Lee taught himself to play drums by beating on cardboard boxes, gaining a rep around the way for his timekeeping, and his singing voice. Emulating his favorites, Earth Wind & Fire and Cameo, he formed groups with other kids with era-evocative band names like Concept and TNT Connection, and emerged as the leader of disciplined rehearsals. "I made them practice," says Lee. "We practiced and practiced and practiced. Because I wanted that perfection." By high school the most accomplished of these bands would take top prize in a prominent local talent show. It was a big moment for Lee, and he felt ready to take things to the next level. But his band-mates had other ideas.

"I don't know what happened," he says, still miffed at the memory. "It must have blew they mind after we won and people started showing notice, because it's like everybody quit! I was like, where the hell did everybody go?" Lee had always made a point of interrogating prospective musicians about their intentions before joining his groups: were they really serious or just looking for a way to pick up girls? Now he understood even more the importance of finding a collaborator just as committed to the music as he was.

=

Isaac Manning had spent much of his life immersed in music and the arts – singing in the church choir with his family on Nashville's north side, writing, painting, dancing, and working various gigs within the entertainment industry. After serving in the armed forces, in the early '70s he ran The Teenage Place, a music and performance venue that catered to the local youth. But he was forced out of town when word of one of his recreational routines created a stir beyond the safe haven of his bohemian circles.

"I was growing marijuana," Isaac explains. "It wasn't no business, I was smoking it myself… I would put marijuana in scrambled eggs, cornbread and stuff." His weed use originated as a form of self-medication to combat severe tooth pain. But when he began sharing it with some of the other young people he hung out with, some of who just so happened to be the kids of Nashville politicians, the cops came calling. "When I got busted," he remembers, "they were talking about how they were gonna get rid of me because they didn't want me saying nothing about they children because of the politics and stuff. So I got my family, took two raggedy cars, and left Nashville and went to Vegas."

Out in the desert, Isaac happened to meet Chubby Checker of "The Twist" fame while the singer was gigging at The Flamingo. Impressed by Isaac's zeal, Checker invited him to go on the road with him as his tour manager/roadie/valet. The experience gave Isaac a window into a part of the entertainment world he'd never encountered – a glimpse of what a true pop act's audience looked like. "Chubby Checker, none of his shows were played for Black folks," he remembers. "All his gigs were done at high-class white people areas." Returning home after a few years with Chubby, Isaac was properly motivated to make it in Music City. He began writing songs and scouting around Nashville for local talent anywhere he could find it with an expressed goal: "Find someone who can deliver your songs the way you want 'em delivered and make people feel what you want them to feel."

One day while walking through Edgehill Projects Isaac heard someone playing the drums in a way that made him stop and take notice. "The music was so tight, just the drums made me feel like, oh I'm-a find this person," he recalls. "So I circled through the projects until I found who it was.

"That's how I met him – Lee Tracy. When I found him and he started singing and stuff, I said, ohhh, this is somebody different."

=

Theirs was a true complementary partnership: young Lee possessed the raw talent, the older Isaac the belief. "He's really the only one besides my brother and my family that really seen the potential in me," says Lee. "He made me see that I could do it."

Isaac long being a night owl, his house also made for a fertile collaborative environment – a space where there always seemed to be a new piece of his visual art on display: paintings, illustrations, and dolls and figures (including an enigmatic cardboard robot). Lee and Issac would hang out together and talk, listen to music, conjure ideas, and smoke the herb Isaac had resumed growing in his yard. "It got to where I could trust him, he could trust me," Isaac says of their bond. They also worked together for hours on drawings, spreading larges rolls of paper on the walls and sketching faces with abstract patterns and imagery: alien-like beings, tri-horned horse heads, inverted Janus-like characters where one visage blurred into the other.

Soon it became apparent that they didn't need other collaborators; self-sufficiency was the natural way forward. At Isaac's behest Lee, already fed up with dealing with band musicians, began playing around with a poly-sonic Yamaha keyboard at the local music store. "It had everything on it – trumpet, bass, drums, organ," remembers Lee. "And that's when I started recording my own stuff."

The technology afforded Lee the flexibility and independence he craved, setting him on a path other bedroom musicians and producers around the world were simultaneously following through the '80s into the early '90s. Saving up money from day jobs, he eventually supplemented the Yamaha Isaac had gotten him with Roland and Casio drum machines and a Moog. Lee was living in an apartment in Hillside at that point caring for his dad, who'd been partially paralyzed since early in life. In the evenings up in his second floor room, the music put him in a zone where he could tune out everything and lose himself in his ideas.

"Oh I loved it," he recalls. "I would really experiment with the instruments and use a lot of different sound effects. I was looking for something nobody else had. I wanted something totally different. And once I found the sound I was looking for, I would just smoke me a good joint and just let it go, hit the record button." More potent a creative stimulant than even Isaac's weed was the holistic flow and spontaneity of recording. Between sessions at Isaac's place and Lee's apartment, their volume of output quickly ballooned.

"We was always recording," says Lee. "That's why we have so much music. Even when I went to Isaac's and we start creating, I get home, my mind is racing, I gotta start creating, creating, creating. I remember there were times when I took a 90-minute tape from front to back and just filled it up."

"We never practiced," says Isaac. "See, that was just so odd about the whole thing. I could relate to him, and tell him about the songs I had ideas for and everything and stuff. And then he would bring it back or whatever, and we'd get together and put it down." Once the taskmaster hell bent on rehearsing, Lee had flipped a full 180. Perfection was no longer an aspiration, but the enemy of inspiration.

"I seen where practicing and practicing got me," says Lee. "A lot of musicians you get to playing and they gotta stop, they have to analyze the music. But while you analyzing you losing a lot of the greatness of what you creating. Stop analyzing what you play, just play! And it'll all take shape."

=

"I hope you understood the beginning of the record because this was invented from a dream I had today… (You tell me, I'll tell you, we'll figure it out together)" – Lee Tracy and Isaac Manning, "Hope You Understand"

Lee lets loose a maniacal cackle when he acknowledges that the material that he and Isaac recorded was by anyone's estimation pretty out there. It's the same laugh that commences "Hope You Understand" – a chaotic transmission that encapsulates the duality at the heart of their music: a stated desire to reach people and a compulsion to go as leftfield as they saw fit.

"We just did it," says Lee. "We cut the music on and cut loose. I don't sit around and write. I do it by listening, get a feeling, play the music, and the lyrics and stuff just come out of me."

The approach proved adaptable to interpreting other artists' material. While recording a cover of Whitney Houston's pop ballad "Saving All My Love For You," Lee played Whitney's version in his headphones as he laid down his own vocals – partially following the lyrics, partially using them as a departure point. The end result is barely recognizable compared with the original, Lee and Isaac having switched up the time signature and reinvented the melody along the way towards morphing a slick mainstream radio standard into something that sounds solely their own.

"I really used that song to get me started," says Lee. "Then I said, well I need something else, something is missing. Something just came over me. That's when I came up with 'Is It What You Want.'"

The song would become the centerpiece of Lee and Isaac's repertoire. Pushed along by a percolating metronomic Rhythm King style beat somewhere between a military march and a samba, "Is It What You Want" finds Lee pleading the sincerity of his commitment to a potential love interest embellished by vocal tics and hiccups subtlely reminiscent of his childhood hero MJ. Absent chord changes, only synth riffs gliding in and out like apparitions, the song achieves a lingering lo-fi power that leaves you feeling like it's still playing, somewhere, even after the fade out.

"I don't know, it's like a real spiritual song," Lee reflects. "But it's not just spiritual. To me the more I listen to it it's like about everything that you do in your everyday life, period. Is it what you want? Do you want a car or you don't want a car? Do you want Jesus or do you want the Devil? It's basically asking you the question. Can't nobody answer the question but you yourself."

In 1989 Lee won a lawsuit stemming from injuries sustained from a fight he'd gotten into. He took part of the settlement money and with Isaac pressed up "Saving All My Love For You" b/w "Is It What You Want" as a 45 single. Isaac christened the label One Chance Records. "Because that's all we wanted," he says with a laugh, "one chance."

Isaac sent the record out to radio stations and major labels, hoping for it to make enough noise to get picked up nationally. But the response he and Lee were hoping for never materialized. According to Isaac the closest the single got to getting played on the radio is when a disk jock from a local station made a highly unusual announcement on air: "The dude said on the radio, 107.5 – 'We are not gonna play 'Is It What You Want.' We cracked up! Wow, that's deep.

"It was a whole racist thing that was going on," he reflects. "So we just looked over and kept on going. That was it. That was about the way it goes… If you were Black and you were living in Nashville and stuff, that's the way you got treated." Isaac already knew as much from all the times he'd brought he and Lee's tapes (even their cache of country music tunes) over to Music Row to try to drum up interest to no avail.

"Isaac, he really worked his ass off," says Lee. "He probably been to every record place down on Music Row." Nashville's famed recording and music business corridor wasn't but a few blocks from where Lee grew up. Close enough, he remembers, for him to ride his bike along its back alleys and stumble upon the occasional random treasure, like a discarded box of harmonicas. Getting in through the front door, however, still felt a world away.

"I just don't think at the time our music fell into a category for them," he concedes. "It was before its time."

=

Lee stopped making music some time in the latter part of the '90s, around the time his mom passed away and life became increasingly tough to manage. "When my mother died I had a nervous breakdown," he says, "So I shut down for a long time. I was in such a sadness frame of mind. That's why nobody seen me. I had just disappeared off the map." He fell out of touch with Isaac, and in an indication of just how bad things had gotten for him, lost track of all the recordings they'd made together. Music became a distant memory.

Fortunately, Isaac kept the faith. In a self-published collection of his poetry – paeans to some of his favorite entertainment and public figures entitled Friends and Dick Clark – he'd written that he believed "music has a life of its own." But his prescience and presence of mind were truly manifested in the fact that he kept an archive of he and Lee's work. As perfectly imperfect as "Is It What You Want" now sounds in a post-Personal Space world, Lee and Isaac's lone official release was in fact just a taste. The bulk of the Is It What You Want album is culled from the pair's essentially unheard home recordings – complete songs, half-realized experiments, Isaac's blue monologues and pronouncements et al – compiled, mixed and programmed in the loose and impulsive creative spirit of their regular get-togethers from decades ago. The rest of us, it seems, may have finally caught up to them.

On the prospect of at long last reaching a wider audience, Isaac says simply, "I been trying for a long time, it feels good." Ever the survivor, he adds, "The only way I know how to make it to the top is to keep climbing. If one leg break on the ladder, hey, you gotta fix it and keep on going… That's where I be at. I'll kill death to make it out there."

For Lee it all feels akin to a personal resurrection: "It's like I was in a tomb and the tomb was opened and I'm back… Man, it feels so great. I feel like I'm gonna jump out of my skin." Success at this stage of his life, he realizes, probably means something different than what it did back when he was singing and dancing in Isaac's front yard. "What I really mean by 'making it,'" he explains isn't just the music being heard but, "the story being told."

Occasionally Lee will pull up "Is It What You Want" on YouTube on his phone, put on his headphones, and listen. He remembers the first time he heard his recorded voice. How surreal it was, how he thought to himself, "Is that really me?" What would he say to that younger version of himself now?

"I would probably tell myself, hang in there, don't give up. Keep striving for the goal. And everything will work out."

Despite what's printed on the record label, sometimes you do get more than one chance.

NOW Music is delighted to introduce our new sub-brand ‘NOW Presents…’. This new series starts with ‘NOW Presents… The 1970s’, the first-ever NOW vinyl boxset featuring 5 LPs uniquely designed to reflect the era.

The boxset is a musical time capsule of the decade that saw so many different genres find chart success. Across its 74 tracks over 10 sides of vinyl, the massive hits sit alongside enduring classics from each year. The set not only includes 5 beautifully designed front covers on the individual albums (that slot into a rigid slip case), but also features track by track annotations with chart positions and facts about the artists and songs.

Each year, 1970-1979 is presented as 1 side of each LP… Kicking off with the iconic ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’ by Simon & Garfunkel from the biggest selling album of the year, and of the decade. 1970 also includes Motown classics from Stevie Wonder, Smokey Robinson & The Miracles, and the debut hit ‘I Want You Back’ from the Jackson 5.

1971 includes the seminal ‘What’s Going On’ from Marvin Gaye, alongside Elton John’s breakthrough – the timeless ‘Your Song’, Rod Stewart’s breakthrough ‘Maggie May’, and The Who’s defining rock anthem ‘Baba O’Riley’.

The charts in 1972 began to reflect the popularity of ‘Glam Rock’ – and ‘Virginia Plain’ by Roxy Music, and ‘Metal Guru’ by T. Rex are included, as is the David Bowie-produced ‘Perfect Day’ from Lou Reed.

‘Killing Me Softly With His Song’ – one of the most beautiful songs, and vocals ever from Roberta Flack opens 1973’s side – and is joined by, amongst others, Billy Joel’s signature song ‘Piano Man’ and Bob Dylan’s ‘Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door’.

1974 celebrates Queen having their first Top 5 single with ‘Killer Queen’, and title tracks from two of the decades’ biggest selling albums: Paul McCartney & Wings with ‘Band On The Run’, and ‘Tubular Bells’ from Mike Oldfield.

John Lennon released ‘Imagine’ in 1971 – but it became a UK hit in 1975, and so, starts this side… and finds space for some of the year’s perfect pop from Steve Harley & Cockney Rebel, David Essex, 10cc, and the biggest hit ‘Bye Bye Baby’ from Bay City Rollers, at the peak of their popularity.

ABBA enjoyed 7 UK Number 1’s in the 1970s, and their biggest was the enduringly popular ‘Dancing Queen’ which leads into 1976. Electric Light Orchestra had a huge hit with ‘Livin’ Thing’, as did Thin Lizzy with ‘The Boys Are Back In Town’ – plus Joan Armatrading emerged with ‘Love And Affection’.

1977 saw Fleetwood Mac release their mega-selling album ‘Rumours’, and from it ‘Don’t Stop’ is here, as is Donna Summer’s ‘I Feel Love’ – one of the most influential dance tracks of all time – and one of 1977’s favourite TV stars, David Soul, enjoyed a #1 single with ‘Don’t Give Up On Us’.

With ‘Wuthering Heights’, Kate Bush not only had 4 weeks at number 1 in 1978, but became the first female artist to achieve this with a self-written song. The Jam, The Boomtown Rats and Siouxsie And The Banshees all found consistent success as Punk & New Wave established new chart stars.

1979 concludes the set and opens with the iconic ‘London Calling’ from The Clash, and includes two of the biggest bands of the era, The Police and Blondie. A couple of years later the first video played on MTV would be ‘Video Killed The Radio Star’ from The Buggles – and it’s fitting that this is the final track on the collection, a #1 in late 1979 – it signposted the synth-pop wave that would define the early 80s…. (but that’s a different box set).

Reissue for John Joseph’s own all-star group 2017 debut album

At its purest, there is little that can match the visceral thrill and empowering spirit of hardcore. As front-man of New York City hardcore kings Cro-Mags, this is something John Joseph knows very well, and with Up In Arms, he and his Bloodclot compatriots deliver a furious collection that hits hard on every level. "In this band we're doing what each of us have always done: give it our all," he states plainly. "We work hard, and we have a lot to say. Look around the planet - people are fed up with the corrupt ruling class. They destroy the planet and kill millions for profit, and the formula for our response is simple: Anger + applied knowledge = results. Don't just bitch. Change it."

The results reflect the roots and passions of the individual members. Danzig/Murphy's Law guitarist Todd Youth was the first piece of the puzzle. "We've always talked about doing this record together, Todd had songs written and I had notebooks full of lyrics. In late September 2015, I went out to LA to do a triathlon and injured my calf muscle, so I couldn't race, and Todd said he could get some studio time. So, we went in and cut the demo. While there are things we may perceive as a negative in our lives, in fact the universe has a bigger plan, and that experience ultimately resulted in the record." Having been friends with Queens Of The Stone Age and Danzig powerhouse drummer Joey Castillo for three decades, the two musicians had long admired each other's work, and their collaboration has been a long time coming. Following Castillo's suggestion of bringing in Nick Oliveri (Queens Of The Stone Age/The Dwarves) to handle bass duties, the lineup was complete. The songs that comprise Up In Arms manifested after the quartet plugged in and let the music speak for them. "We didn't decide to try to play anything, these are the songs that happened when we started jamming, and I love this band because there are no egos involved. Our goal is to make the best music possible, period. I love it when those guys contribute with melodies, etc., and I've even helped with some of the arrangements. Because we all think alike, our lyrics deal with the issues of the day, and that makes for better songs."

Every track on Up In Arms lives up to the rallying cry of the album's title - the bursts of high energy hardcore act as the perfect accompaniment to Joseph setting his sights on injustice and the seemingly endless flaws of the contemporary world. The breakneck thrashing of "Slow Kill Genocide" is an anthem for everyone sickened by those responsible for "killing the planet and all its inhabitants through industry and war. They're fucking maniacs and must be stopped." The suitably titled "Manic" attacks with bared fangs, Joseph making it clear that you can only push someone so far before they will react with violence - a call to arms for the disenfranchised who want tomorrow's world to be better than today's. Tracked at NRG in Los Angeles, the raw, old-school production that leaps out from the speaker comes courtesy of producer Zeuss (Hatebreed, Revocation), and the record was mixed by Kyle McAulay at NRG. From the moment the opening title track explodes to life, it's clear that everyone involved is having a blast and playing from the heart, and that this is no frills / no bullshit music at its most passionate - every song evoking mental images of utter chaos in a heaving mosh pit.

For anyone approaching the album for the first time, Joseph has only this to say: "Turn the volume way the fuck up!" And with plans to tour everywhere, Bloodclot will be getting in a lot of faces in 2017 and beyond. "We are already writing material and the next album is in the works. But, for now, all we want is to hit the stage to support 'Up in Arms', and every single night leave every ounce of ourselves up there."

Motörhead in 1981 was a band of extremes; a flammable mix of non-stop celebration over their rising success and punishing graft, underscored by an inter-band powder-keg dynamic. After recording Ace Of Spades, it had shot to number four in the UK; the killer breakthrough after Overkill and Bomber had done essential groundwork, late 1980’s Ace Up Your Sleeve UK tour was a triumphant lap of honour that spilled into the recording of No Sleep ‘Til Hammersmith. The album took its title from an inscription painted on one of the trucks, referencing the 32 gigs they were playing with only two days off. The track listing ended up featuring three tracks from Ace Of Spades, five from Overkill, Bomber’s title track and two from their self-titled debut. Originally released on 27th June 1981, Lemmy is quoted as saying of it “I knew it’d be the live one that went best, because we’re really a live band. You can’t listen to a record and find out what we’re about. You’ve got to see us.” Upon release No Sleep ‘Til Hammersmith went straight to number one, their first and only in the UK and is still the most necessary live album of all time.

The No Sleep ‘Til Hammersmith album; brand new remaster created from the original tapes. Pressed on vinyl as a triple album in a 20 page bookpack and deluxe 24 page, 2CD mediabook. Includes a full live show from Newcastle released in its entirety for the first time. Recorded on the Short Sharp Pain In The Neck tour where the album was originally taken from.

When Steve Lawler first sent us 'Crazy Dream,' he told us that he had made the record 'specifically with Turbo in mind,' thus sending us on a quasi-lucid journey down a rabbit hole of self-discovery from which we have only recently emerged. Most labels would simply talk up a nuts-to-the-wall floor-filler with a killer 'White Horse' bassline from an acid house legend and be done with it, but the fact remains that if we forgo an opportunity to learn more about ourselves as dance music imprint, we are doing our fans a disservice whether they could possibly be expected to realize it or not. We hired a board-licensed Forensic Poet to parse the track's lyrical references to nothing being 'quite as it seems,' 'feeling naked and confused,' and rising above 'the push and shove.' What was he trying to tell us The poet assured us that all it meant was that Lawler admires Turbo and thought the track would be a good fit, and that we should put our clothes back on, wipe the confused looks from our faces, and stop pushing and shoving one another because everything was exactly as it seemed. We paid him his $25 and did as we were told. For the remixes, we took a track made especially for us and enlisted a diverse cast of Turbo All-Stars to spin it into a release for everyone, a proprietary practice we call 'Human Alchemy: The Future of Generosity™.' Finland's Jori Hulkkonen, Belgium's Charlotte de Witte, and Argentina's DJs Pareja trace a beautiful global triangle for lovers of acid bangers, stripped-down techno, and tripped-out weirdness, respectively. At Turbo, giving party people what they need is more than just a crazy dream. It's a crazy reality.